


Smutty Johnlock short stories

by Johnlock_4_ever



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, John Is So Done, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Red Pants Monday, Riding Crops, Safe Sane and Consensual, Sherlock is a Brat, Spanking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-18
Updated: 2019-11-18
Packaged: 2021-02-12 20:49:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21482647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Johnlock_4_ever/pseuds/Johnlock_4_ever
Summary: Sherlock is bored. John knows how to shut down his mind for a while.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Comments: 10
Kudos: 47





	Smutty Johnlock short stories

**Author's Note:**

> This "ficlet" *looks at wordcount & starts laughing* was written for the NaughtyJohnlock twitter account: https://twitter.com/JohnlockN  
I regret nothing :D

“I need a case!” Sherlock shouted and paced up and down the sitting room agitatedly.

“You just solved one,” John reminded him decidedly friendly, paying little attention to the man who was gradually working himself into a frenzy. Underneath the façade of stoic calm, the army doctor was everything but.

“Oh, John, as always you see, but you don’t observe. My mind is rotting away! I can feel it falling to pieces, but of course someone like you wouldn’t understand this.”

“Someone like me?” John repeated, mentally steeling himself for a fight. He folded the newspaper he’d been trying to read and all but threw it on the coffee table.

Sherlock rolled his eyes at John’s inability to _observe_. “Someone whose mind is blissfully blank most of the time, barely used. All those little oh-so important things you concern yourself with day to day mean nothing to me. You’re easily pleased but I’M BORED!”

“Sherlock…” John growled dangerously low, but the mad genius wouldn’t listen.

He only set the skull back down on the mantle, searching his Persian slippers next. “Where are they? John, where are my cigarettes?” he demanded impatiently. He threw one of the slippers across the room and delved into a stack of papers.

“Sherlock, calm down. You quit smoking again, remember?”

“Fuck off!” The atmosphere in the room shifted abruptly from there. It was a miracle how John had suppressed his anger until now.

“Alright, that’s it. Come here, Sherlock!” For a few seconds, Sherlock only stood there, paralysed by John’s Captain voice. “I said, come here! I promise you that you won’t be bored,” John explained with a deceiving gentleness. Sherlock took a few steps towards the other man. “Kneel, pet.”

Sherlock gladly sank to his knees between John’s legs, a welcome calmness already washing over him.

“You think I’m an idiot–”

“I never said–”

“Shut up and listen, boy. You think I’m an idiot, but I might understand this better than you do. Your mind isn’t crumbling, Sherlock. It’s still running at a thousand miles per hour, but with no case, nothing to focus on, all that brilliance of yours is a bit overwhelming. So you can either wait for another case to appear out of nowhere, or you can let me take care of you and try not to think at all for a while.”

“Please, John. Please take care of me.” God, why was he already begging? He really needed John to shut down his mind then.

John leaned forward in his chair and slid his left hand up the back of Sherlock’s neck and grabbed a handful of curls in a possessive gesture. “Good boy,” he whispered against Sherlock’s lips and kissed him ferociously. Sherlock melted into the kiss and sighed when John pulled away.

“I think we should move this to the bedroom before Mrs Hudson walks in on us. Get up, pet.” John deliberately skipped the mention of clients, but when Sherlock stood up a little shakily, the prominent bulge in his pyjama bottoms at John’s eye-level, it was obvious that his priorities had changed rather quickly.

John followed him down the corridor to their bedroom, eager to finally play with his boyfriend. The last two weeks had been cluttered with cases, leaving no space for any kind of scene. There had been lonely handjobs in the shower for John while Sherlock had ignored his transport as usual. The man must have been _dying_ for an orgasm, however John decided that the focus of this scene would be on temporarily shutting down Sherlock’s mind – which always worked best if he kept him waiting and working really hard for it.

“Strip,” John commanded and closed the bedroom door behind them. The army doctor stripped down to his pants as well, revelling in the reaction they provoked from his lover.

“John, you– your pants are…” he blankly stared at the red fabric clinging to John’s erection tightly.

“Red? Do you like the colour?” he grinned.

Sherlock licked his lips. “Yes.”

“Good. Get on the bed on all fours and spread your legs.” While Sherlock assumed the required position, John fetched the riding crop from its usual place. He moved to stand behind Sherlock, cupping one arse cheek roughly with his left hand. “Wanna see if I can turn this lovely arse just as red,” he murmured and before Sherlock realised that John’s hand was gone, a solid smack landed on his skin. The impact made him shift forward a bit, but Sherlock immediately leaned back for more. He arched his back, presenting his arse to John. The army doctor chuckled “Eager, are we?”

“Oh, God yes!” Sherlock moaned when the next smacks covered every inch of his pale bum, hard enough to leave visible handprints. After the first twenty smacks John admired his handiwork. Judging by the beautiful sounds Sherlock had made, he needed more. However, John’s hand was beginning to sting quite a bit.

John stepped back and picked up the riding crop with his right hand, shifting his stance to get a good angle. “I know that you enjoy a good cropping for fun, Sherlock, and we’ll get to that later. But right now, it’s time to punish that impossible behaviour of yours. Telling me to ‘fuck off’? Not a good idea. Not a good idea _at all_, pet. I think twenty are appropriate. I want you to count them out loud and thank me for each one. Understood?”

“Yes, John,” Sherlock breathed. He shivered at the prospect of his punishment. In the beginning of this power exchange, John had been overly cautious, carefully probing Sherlock’s limits and pain tolerance. Now that he knew them, he wouldn’t hold back. 

The first blow landed in the centre of his right arse cheek, the loud _crack_ followed by a nasty stinging sensation. “One, thank you, John.” The next one landed merely an inch under the first. “AH! Two, thank you, John.” The third blow landed where Sherlock’s left arse cheek met his thigh and Sherlock cried out at the intense pain. He took a shuddering breath. “Th–three...” he managed to gasp.

“Come on, pet. You know the rules. Thank me properly or we’ll start over.”

Sherlock shook his head. “Three, thank you, John.”

The next minutes were filled by the same pattern of sounds: the distinct _crack_ of the riding crop hitting Sherlock’s skin and eliciting a moan from the detective, followed by Sherlock thanking his Dom. When Sherlock thanked him for the ninth, he noticed tears welling up in his eyes and by the time they reached fourteen, he was sobbing uncontrollably. What faintly sounded like “Twenty, thankyou, Jawn,” was barely recognisable between the ragged gasps and sobs.

With the riding crop still in hand, John walked around the quivering man and crouched down in front of him. Sherlock let his head hang low between his shoulders and the sudden presence of John’s warm hand against his tear-stained cheek startled him. “I’m proud of you, pet. You’ve been doing so well. Are you alright?”

Sherlock sniffed and tried to focus. “Yes.”

“Then it’s time to get to the fun part.”

“John?” Sherlock asked quickly before his Dom could stand up and looked at him with dilated pupils. The pain of the punishment made him drift around the edges of subspace, but it was just out of reach.

“Yes, love?”

“Please kiss me?” Sherlock bit his bottom lip in the most adorable way possible.

John smiled. “Whatever you need, pet.” He leaned in and pressed his lips against his boyfriend’s in a soft kiss.

Sherlock moaned when the tip of John’s tongue brushed against his, but John eventually pulled away. After all, he had plans for his brilliant detective. He got back up to his feet but stayed close, the erection still hidden under the red pants all but pressing against Sherlock’s mouth. John grabbed a handful of Sherlock’s luscious curls to keep his head in place and pressed himself closer to the man. Sherlock inhaled the musky scent of John’s arousal and sighed. “Need them off,” he mumbled against the fabric and nibbled at the outline of John’s cock with his lips.

John made a pensive sound. “I still need them for comparison. Your arse isn’t quite as red as I imagined. Can you take some more?” he asked and let the riding crop swish through the air for effect.

Sherlock flinched, feeling disappointed when the leather didn’t make contact with his skin. “Please, John,” he drawled and tried to nibble at John’s cock again, but John held him back.

“When you were ranting about being bored, you also said that I am easy to please. I don’t care where you got this ridiculous idea from, but I want you to prove it. If you want any more impact play, you’ll have to earn it, pet. Show me how easily you can please me with the pants still on.”

Sherlock knew that it wouldn’t be an easy task, but he could manage. He started with John’s balls, sucking them into his mouth through the fabric and_ moaning_. John dragged the broad tip of the riding crop over Sherlock’s red and heated skin, a fickle promise of what was to come when Sherlock pleased him.

Sherlock released John’s balls and moved higher, kissing and nibbling his way up John’s length. Once he located the head of John’s cock near the elastic waistband, he focused on that. It was impossible to actually close his lips around it, but Sherlock enthusiastically lapped at it, wetting the annoying fabric with his saliva. The tip of the crop stopped caressing Sherlock’s arse and Sherlock moaned into John’s crotch when he was rewarded with a slap. Sherlock continued what he was doing, earning himself eight more slaps. Just as he figured out what worked and what didn’t, John pulled away.

The sight of Sherlock’s reddened skin combined with the moans that vibrated through his cock had almost been enough to drive John over the edge. He took some deep, calming breaths and ordered Sherlock to lie down on his back. Sherlock obeyed him with a smug grin. He had deduced how he could bring him off the fastest way despite the pants and that just wouldn’t do. “You’re still thinking too much, pet.” John retrieved a bottle of lube from the bedside table and sat down between Sherlock’s legs. “I promised you that you wouldn’t have to think at all for a while, and I keep my promises.”

John opened the bottle of lube and drizzled some of it straight onto Sherlock’s cock. The detective hissed when the cold gel touched his skin and bucked his hips involuntarily. John poured some more lube onto his left palm and wrapped it around Sherlock’s cock. The detective groaned and felt his mind relax a bit. He watched the slow glide of John’s fist over his cock, unable to focus on anything else.

“There’s something else we have to get out of the way before I can fuck you into oblivion,” John said out of the blue, his casual tone undermining the meaning of his words. “Every time you feel bored, you’re itching for cigarettes. How many times did you promise me you’d quit?” John added a twist of his wrist and Sherlock moaned.

“Three times, John.”

“And you’ve already broken two of those promises. Pity.” John picked up the rhythm till Sherlock was panting hard, fucking up into John’s fist to chase his release.

“_Yes_, YES! Ooooh John. Johnnn, Jooo... fuck!” Sherlock violently bucked up when John took his hand away.

“Of course you can imagine how disappointed I was when I found you smoking in the loo at Scotland Yard. I wanted to celebrate with you because you’d just solved a ten, but instead I spent the night at Harry’s.”

Sherlock shifted uncomfortably on the bed. “I’m sorry for that, John, but would you please just…”

“Skip the difficult memories and keep on having fun with you? Sure.” John grasped Sherlock’s cock again, firmer this time, and started with a fast pace right away. “The second time, I’d almost seen it coming, but of course that didn’t make it any less disappointing for me. Do you remember how you broke the second promise, pet?” John’s rhythm slowed and Sherlock growled in frustration. He knew that he was supposed to answer John’s question, but he was so out of his mind with arousal that he could barely even think.

“I– I was...” Sherlock panted and tried to focus on the orgasm that was coiling tight in his belly. “I was tricked into revealing something… Bond Air project and it made me so… so– Oh fuck, John, _please_!” John didn’t take his hand away this time, but he pinched his fingers together under the head of Sherlock’s leaking prick, staving off the orgasm for a second time. Sherlock made a frustrated sound.

“Breaking a promise once is bad enough, but a second time… It made me feel really desperate. Why would you go back to bad habits and ignore your doctor’s orders? Or ignore the fact that I told you many times how much I hated kissing you with that lingering tobacco stench? It really made me think that you didn’t care about me, about _us_, at all. That you’d ditch me over some stupid cigarettes–”

“John, I’m sorry. Please believe me, I really am. But this is… you’re driving me insane!”

“Then we’re even now. Do you think you can keep your latest promise? That you quit for good?”

“Yes! John, I swear I’ll never touch a cigarette in my life ever again if it means losing you!”

“I hope that’s true, Sherlock. Either way, I really need to fuck you now.” John reached for the discarded bottle of lube and spread some more over his fingers. This time, he let it warm up to skin temperature before he reached between Sherlock’s legs. Usually, John loved teasing the eloquent man until he was a babbling, incoherent mess – but right now, he chose to prepare Sherlock quickly for both their sake.

Sherlock threw his head back when the tip of John’s lubed cock breached him, pressing deeper and deeper in one smooth, steady glide. They’d had sex for almost a year now, but John’s girth surprised him every time. Sherlock adjusted quickly, wiggling his hips as the Sherlockian way of saying “Move!”

John slid almost all the way out of the magnificent tightness of Sherlock’s arse before thrusting back in. John’s rhythm became faster, eliciting little moans from Sherlock with some particular rough thrusts. “Pet…” John waited till he had the full attention of Sherlock’s brilliant mind. What was left of it, anyway. “Lift up your legs,” he demanded, his voice thick with arousal and need.

It took a few seconds for Sherlock’s dazed mind to coordinate the movements, but he managed to lift his long legs over John’s shoulders. The new angle allowed John to fuck him deeper, to hit his prostate with every thrust. Sherlock groaned and reached for John’s head, drawing him down into a messy kiss. John could feel his orgasm building low in his spine, coiling tighter and tighter in his belly. “I’m gonna cum,” he panted into the minimal space between their lips, leaning back to fuck his boyfriend impossibly harder. He wrapped his hand around Sherlock’s cock, jerking him off in a rhythm that was just as frantic. Sherlock’s mouth fell open on a wordless moan and just when John thought he couldn’t possibly hold back a second longer, he felt Sherlock clamp down on his cock, watched thick ropes of come paint Sherlock’s chest and abdomen. John came with a loud groan, his cock buried balls-deep in Sherlock’s arse. He was faintly aware of the last spurts of Sherlock’s come running warmly over his fingers, the feeling of Sherlock’s cock softening in his hand. They both panted harshly, slowly coming down from their spectacular orgasms. John leaned forward and rested his head on Sherlock’s shoulder, ignoring the sticky mess between them. They could worry about cleaning up after their post-sex nap.


End file.
